Close Our Eyes, Pretend to Fly
by jandjsalmon
Summary: Tracey and Greg. Just a brief glimpse of their life. Post-Hogwarts. Naughty One-Shot.


**Title/Author:** Close our eyes, pretend to fly (1/1) by jandjsalmon  
**Summary:** _Tracey and Greg and smut. Just a brief glimpse of their life. Post-Hogwarts._  
**Pairing:** Tracey Davis/Greg Goyle  
**Rating/Warnings/Notes:** **M** Extra special thanks to Seegrim - the best beta and girlyfriend a fangirl could have. She held my hand and repeatedly told me not to binn it. For that, I'm thankful.

**Close our eyes, pretend to fly**

The room was dark, but Greg could still see the silhouette of Tracey's almost naked form beside him as he ran his fingers up and down her side. He wasn't exactly sure how it happened, and it had only been a matter of weeks since they had finally got their heads out of their arses, but Greg was counting every second with her blessed. Things were finally the way they were supposed to be after years of muckitups and almosts.

He revelled in the silence, memorizing the exact texture of her skin and the warmth of her breath against his chest, until Tracey's voice pierced the silence and she whispered softly, "When did you know you _wanted_ me, Val?" She didn't have to mention love. They'd both loved each other as long as they could remember. No, Tracey meant the wild fire she felt in her stomach whenever he touched her, the pool of desire she felt every time he looked at her with those hazel eyes of his. She wanted to know how long he'd wanted to touch her the way she wanted to touch him. The way she couldn't _stop_ touching him now that she knew there was more than just friendship.

He tilted his head and smiled to himself, remembering what it had been like - that summer before fourth year, when Tracey had made it a nightly occurrence to Floo to his house and climb into bed with him wearing nothing but boyshorts and a thin tank top. Every night he'd had to force himself not to reach out and touch her hardened nipples straining against her thin top, hoping against hope that she wouldn't feel the hard on at her hip. It was then that he was pretty positive that his feelings for her had turned into something more than just that of a best mate, but his fourteen-year-old self hadn't been prepared to do anything about it just then. How did you even explain that as an adult?

"A long time, Maeve. It's been a long time," was all he said, his slow smile widening on his lips. He'd sidestepped her question and he knew that she'd never let him get away with it if she wasn't properly distracted. His fingertips skimmed her shoulders and he slid his palm to her breast, whispering into her ear, "What about you, Maeve? Do you remember when?"

He could almost hear her smile. She was embarrassed but she arched into his hand.

"I used to lay in bed thinking about you. At home. At school. I'd stay up half the night, touching and pining and hoping you were doing the same. The only way I could sleep was having your arms around me, Val, but I couldn't do that until I'd-"

"Until you what?" he whispered, this time less controlled. She'd begun to rock back against him and just as she was shivering with every movement of his hand, he was fairly certain he was going to come right there in his pyjama trousers when she touched him, the sensations were _that_ intense.

Tracey breathed out and moaned in pleasure. "I couldn't come to you until I'd thought of you when I touched myself. Every time I climbed into your bed, I worried that you'd see through me and know what I'd just done, but the other part of me lay there hoping that each time I had just interrupted you doing the same thing."

Greg leaned down and captured her mouth with a passionate kiss, his hand slipping up and pulling her tank over her head. He lowered his mouth and captured one rosy bud with his teeth, making her jump, the other being massaged by his palm.

"Did you do that, Val? Did you touch yourself, imagining it was me, _wishing_ it was me?" she asked as her breath hitched.

Allowing one hand to slide over the course of her stomach and then move deftly between her legs, Greg groaned as she freed him from his ever increasingly tight pants and took him in hand.

"Every night." He figured it was about time that his little secret was outed. This was as good a time and place as any. He began kissing down her neck and picked up the rhythm as he teased her most sensitive place.

Tracey could hardly keep coherent thoughts running through her head. "Every night?" she said in a foggy haze as he bit her neck. The pressure in her stomach was about to burst, and she was very nearly begging him to fuck her.

Greg pulled her to straddle him and it was only a second before she lowered herself on him and gave a wanton moan of pleasure to the sky.

This was _so_ much better than doing it yourself, he thought, as he grasped her hips slowly and guided her at the pace she'd begun to set. She was moving quickly, it was clear that she had nearly been ready before. As his orgasm came nearer, Greg flicked his thumb against her to bring her to completion alongside him.

She was moaning and whispering his name, lifting her hand to her own breast making him have to bite his own lip to keep him from groaning out loud at the sight.

With one final thrust, Greg found his world unravelling, and as he let go he found himself thrusting even harder until she finally fell into the abyss with him.

Out of breath, but completely sated, Tracey found herself laying on his chest once more, her breathing heavy but a wide smile on her face.

"I love you, Val," she whispered before kissing his chest where her head lay.

Greg kissed the top of her head and smiled. "I love you too, Poppet. Always have."


End file.
